


As Night Of The Long Fangs Dawns Into Morning

by IloveCallisto



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Drama, a little bit of Anarietta/Damien on the side, and some half-assed attempts of dry humor, because that's the cutest kind, important questions that need addressing, like how Geralt explained killing a higher vampire when he already told it was impossible, really awkward and confused kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IloveCallisto/pseuds/IloveCallisto
Summary: When the first vampires were invading the Palace, Regis had made it his business to forcefully escort her into safety – which he had done rather effortlessly for a relatively lanky and grizzled man – and told her that the vampires’ attack would come to an end in one of two cases: either Dettlaff died or Syanna was brought to face him.Whichever of the scenarios had taken place, Anna Henrietta was certain the witcher was responsible for it. And even though she did not understand how he could have managed to execute the latter she had also finally accepted the fact that in Geralt’s case nothing was ruled out.aka the events that took place during the rest of the night after Geralt defeated Dettlaff
Relationships: Anna Henrietta | Anarietta & Syanna | Rhenawedd, Anna Henrietta | Anarietta/Damien de la Tour
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	As Night Of The Long Fangs Dawns Into Morning

* * *

* * *

Absolutely nothing had indicated it was about to end when it suddenly did.

The sky, which up until the moment something invisibly but inexplicably substantially altered had been unnaturally carbon black, paled and was no longer covered with anything more than normal grey storm clouds. By comparison to the former it looked like a midday sun had just risen from behind the mountains to brighten the entirety of Toussaint.

Enormous herds of bats had mere moments ago been plunging like crossbow arrows above the rooftops, making sudden attacks to side streets and gateways, but now they scattered and flew away as if collectively remembering this was not their instinctive behavior. The vampires rioting in the streets also suddenly lost interest in mauling people and disappeared. Those who had been sucking blood from a corpse or a wheezing moribund finished their eating undisturbed, but afterwards turned into smoke and vanished like their brethren. 

Anna Henrietta looked at her city through the dyed window glass and saw that there where just a split second ago had occurred a complete war, the collision of pitch-black vampire herds and shining golden armors of Toussaint’s knights in the middle of a sea of flames, now remained only buildings slowly turning into piles of ash, collapsed statues, broken windowpanes and an endless, endless amount of spilled blood.

Anna Henrietta stepped outside to one of the Palace’s many patios and tried to use the last pieces of her willpower to simultaneously prevent her heart from rupturing and force herself to think clearly. When the first vampires were invading the Palace, Regis had made it his business to forcefully escort her into safety – which he had done rather effortlessly for a relatively lanky and grizzled man – and told her that the vampires’ attack would come to an end in one of two cases: either Dettlaff died or Syanna was brought to face him.

Whichever of the scenarios had taken place, Anna Henrietta was certain the witcher was responsible for it. And even though she did not understand how he could have managed to execute the latter she had also finally accepted the fact that in Geralt’s case nothing was ruled out. 

Anna Henrietta tried to grab this sole rational thought she could fathom – she needed to resolve what had happened. She needed to find Geralt, Regis, Damien… Syanna.

From amongst all the names and faces rotating in her head, one thought pushed through, however – the thought she wanted to both reject entirely and let wash all over her until she was suffocated by it. It became stronger with each knight fallen or injured in battle she passed by, some of which had had their head brutally torn from their shoulders or their chest armor pierced through by monstrous claws like it was made of lard. It became stronger with the knowledge that currently the streets of Beauclair were filled with innocent civilians, her subjects, her _people_ , in the similar state.

And the strengthening emerged with Syanna’s voice in her ears when she had yelled after her from behind the magical barrier as she exited the Land of a Thousand Fables after saying Syanna would be safe there till Dettlaff was taken care of.

_“Try to understand, you sodding whelp living in your little world made out of cotton – if I do not appear in front of him in Tesham Mutna in three days’ time, he will rip your beloved, idyllic paradise to pieces and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it!”_

Yes, Anna Henrietta knew what had happened: she had placed her own, personal interest before her duchy. Her feelings – deep, unconditional love for Syanna and the urge to keep her safe – had made her blind and deaf to Dettlaff’s demands and to the threats of what the consequences of ignoring those demands could be.

In other words, she had behaved precisely as her advisors and ministers once thought she would when the throne of Toussaint had become hers alone after Raymund’s death. She had of course expelled and appropriately punished everyone who had been caught concealing diplomatic information from her and policymaking behind her back, but now she recalled the ministers’ excuses and explanations more clearly than ever.

Explanations about how she should not be trusted with difficult decisions because in a tight spot her emotionality could overrule the sense.

Anna Henrietta shook her head firmly and compulsively swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat back down. She pressed her fingernails deep into the skin of her palms and reminded herself that submitting to threats and blackmail had never been part of her nature. The ministers would have been similarly indignant if she had stepped in front of them and announced that the identity of the Beast of Beauclair had been discovered but that attempts to catch him had been stopped and instead his requirements would be fulfilled.

And besides, Anna Henrietta had reasoned, Dettlaff was only one man. Vampire or not, surely her loyal knights could handle one vampire even though Geralt, Regis and Syanna had all begged to differ.   
How could have she known that within a week Dettlaff was able to collect an entire army of monsters to support him? Even the witcher had seemed taken aback by the eventual proportions of the vampire’s attack.

Excuses and rationalizations crisscrossed in Anna Henrietta’s mind but mostly they just made her feel sick. In reality she had no pretenses – she had made a mistake, an abominable error of judgement, and her people had payed with their blood for it. She had made her decision independently. It was useless to allege that the council had not anticipated Dettlaff’s power or would not have been willing to give in to his blackmail either. Had they found out Dettlaff only wanted to get his hands on Syanna, they would have tossed her at the vampire’s mercy gladly and without a second thought.

“You!” Anna Henrietta shouted when she finally saw what she was looking for, a knight that was alive and in at least decent condition. He was leaning over one of his much less fortunate comrades, only to note that there was nothing to be done. “Come here!”

“Your Grace!” the knight breathed as he hurried to obey.

The knight was young, almost just a boy, and his blond curls extending to his shoulders were smudged with dried up blood. Anna Henrietta remembered that the boy’s name was Guillaume, she had seen him performing enthusiastically in tourneys and fighting beasts in the arena where he had mostly merited in boasting and showing off. Now he had evidently held his ground in a battle that had claimed the lives of many more experienced and acclaimed knights, but instead of pride the light-blue eyes were full of something shattered – it was the look of a man who had hoped for formidable dangers and opportunities to prove his worth and who now deeply regretted his wish. 

And because of that look Anna Henrietta’s command to immediately tell her what had happened changed shape on its way out of her mouth and she instead asked: “Are you alright?”

“I… think so. On the face of it”, Guillaume spluttered, looking just as surprised about the question as Anna Henrietta herself was, “I suffered one or two dents and wounds but nothing worse, nothing… compared to what I imagined my inevitable fate would be just a moment ago.”

And Anna Henrietta did not even have time to ask any defining questions, because the next thing she knew was Guillaume’s distressed babble as he tried to fumble through a depiction of the horrendous events and in the process forgot all the flamboyance and eloquence usually inseparable with the patois of a knight.

“We tried to evacuate as many citizens as possible inside the Palace walls but in the end… the bridge of Hauteville… it was full of huge, hideous creatures who tore apart everything in sight… the men, the weapons, the carriages, the pillars… and everything was on fire… finally we had to retreat… we put people in the Palace and tried to protect the gates… but more and more vampires appeared all the time… everyone, my comrades… everyone collapsed around me, one after another… until it was just me and Palmerin left… my back was against the wall, I was exhausted, dead-beat, I knew the next monster would be the end of me…”

The clueless, confused fluttering of the bright blue eyes already indicated what would come next, but Anna Henrietta let the boy finish his breathless ramble:

“… until they just _disappeared_. I cannot explain it any better, we were in no way able to defend ourselves, but suddenly they simply did not care anymore. What… whatever could have been the cause of that?”

“That is exactly what I need to sort out”, Anna Henrietta said, finally getting her turn to speak, “And I need help for that. Are there any others? You said that Palmerin…”

She did not need to look around her for long before she saw baron Palmerin de Launfal approaching them apparently as fast as he could. The pace was by no means equivalent to running, for Palmerin had injured his leg severely and on top of that his armor appeared to have crumpled in the pelvis area, further hampering his movement. 

“Your Grace! Thank the Gods you are unharmed!” the baron stopped next to the younger knight, panting wheezily and then squeezing his shoulder tightly, “Guillaume…”

Anna Henrietta turned her head when the knights looked at each other. She had just remembered that Guillaume was Palmerin’s nephew whose upbringing he had taken a significant part in. Suddenly she did not at all want to take on the role of a ruler and force the knights to listen to her commands, but a short glance at the smoky ruins of Beauclair unfolding below them served as a necessary push.

“Listen. We need to sort out what has happened. We need to determine the… extent of the damage. What is the situation in the city?”

“Captain de la Tour and his guard tried to defend it from the vampires’ attack”, Palmerin answered, “But to my understanding they got the worst of it… I do not know if he…”

“Damien is not dead”, Anna Henrietta said quickly and was very aware of the fact that the statement was not based on any logical reasoning but on her own, desperately frantic will for it to be so. Damien was the kind of captain every sovereign dreamed about having as the leader of their army, brave and unshakably loyal, and extremely capable when it came to fighting with swords – but in a haven of peace unattainable to wars like Toussaint, not even he had ever faced an enemy that could even be compared to what had been thrown his way tonight.

In attempt to cover up the tense trembling in her voice she talked as fast as she could when she continued:

“Palmerin, go and search for captain de la Tour and _when_ you find him, tell him to report to me immediately. If you see witcher Geralt, I must speak to him too, also as soon as possible.”

Palmerin nodded and Guillaume tried to brace up as Anna Henrietta turned to him.

“Guillaume, seek our ducal court mage and tell him to meet me at the palace playroom.”

Even though Guillaume did his best not to look surprised, Anna Henrietta could not blame the boy for thinking the orders sounded strange in the current circumstances. And on that instant the next wave of self-loathing washed over Anna Henrietta as she noticed her personal order of importance rearing its head once again: Guillaume was clearly in a better shape than the lame Palmerin so Anna Henrietta had instinctively chosen him for the assignment she felt was the most critical to execute fast.

Even now her biggest, most intense desire was to go check whether Syanna was still safely in the hide-out Anna Henrietta had locked her in back when she did not know what kind of disaster these actions would cause. 

And the worst part was that if Anna Henrietta was completely honest with herself, she could not say for sure if she would have acted otherwise even if she had known. If she had foreseen the extent of Dettlaff’s vast rage and powers and what they were capable of, would she have been able to hand her own sister over to him?

Anna Henrietta did not want to grant this dilemma even a theoretical consideration, but quickly turned around and yelled after the already running Guillaume:

“And tell the chamberlain to prepare an announcement that all the material damage caused by the attacks shall be fully compensated from the ducal treasury! And tell him to emphasize that the compensation claims must be sent in a _written form_ only!”

* * *

Anna Henrietta had never particularly liked the court mage. He was an old man with heavy facial features and a beard, but excluding the exterior aspects it was a far cry from the days the court was influenced by Artorius Vigo, who Anna Henrietta and Syanna had called Uncle Artorius and who had created for them the most wonderful playground any little princess could ever hope for, a massive illusion full of rainbows, unicorns and fairy tale characters.

It was not just about the court mage’s tacky and snooty personality – Anna Henrietta had overall lost a great deal of her faith towards mages the day her father had summoned a host of them, presumably from the top of their field, to examine Syanna when she was fourteen years old. The mages had then declared Syanna was incurably cursed, possessed by the Black Sun and therefore unfit both as a ruler and to live her life alongside normal people.

  
Their parents had not banished Syanna at that point, not yet, but Anna Henrietta was convinced that after the mages’ diagnosis they had read Syanna’s every action, word, and gesture as evidence of the Curse of the Black Sun.

For a while, Anna Henrietta had actually hoped to hire a sorceress for the position of the court mage as soon as she would find a suitable candidate. Years ago she had been certain Fringilla Vigo, Artorius’ niece and Anna Henrietta’s good friend, was the ideal option – until she had vanished from Toussaint without a trace, evidently tangled up with the Lodge of Sorceresses conspiring against Nilfgaard and as a result ended up in the disfavor and the dungeon of emperor Emhyr van Emreis. 

According to the latest information Anna Henrietta had received Fringilla was now pardoned from the charges of treason in exchange for the favor she had done for the emperor, but so far, she had decided against contacting her. Emhyr would not have necessarily approved if the vassals of Nilfgaard showed too much interest for the members of the Lodge, so Anna Henrietta had decided not to risk it, especially since the job of Toussaint’s court mage mostly consisted of examining the stars and forecasting the weather – which was crucial for viticulture but definitely a waste of abilities of a more talented magic wielder. Anna Henrietta had not required the services of the court mage personally until a week ago when he had helped her to seclude Syanna safely into Uncle Artorius’ illusion.

At least she had imagined the mage’s precautions to be secure. Now, however, she encountered the man nervously straightening his silk robes in front of the palace playroom, and her bad suspicions got even darker when she saw the previously locked door wide open and the knight she had ordered to stand guard lying dead on the ground. Judging by the court mage’s impeccably neat appearance his magical powers had been enough to protect he himself from the vampires’ attacks but could not have been spared for anyone else. 

This observation by no means improved Anna Henrietta’s opinion of the man and she considered even more strongly if she would get in touch with Fringilla after all – sometime in the future, once they possibly cleared this dreadful mess which had now exploded in front of them in the form of blood, treachery and mauled flesh.

But she needed a sorcerer’s help immediately and for now this pinhead squirming in front of her would have to suffice. 

“Come!” she snapped without even stopping to look at the court mage’s direction, sweeping past him straight into the playroom. The court mage looked frightened and only obeyed after glancing warily at the knight who had bled to death on the ground.

Only then Anna Henrietta realized he naturally believed something dangerous might be prowling inside the room. Anna Henrietta had not even given a thought to such a possibility because in her eyes the witcher’s contribution was clearer by the minute. The feeling only became stronger when she reached the top of the stairs and saw the storybook _Land of the Thousand Fables_ lying open on the table.

Anna Henrietta turned at the court mage so fiercely he nearly fell backwards back to the staircase. “Are you certain the magic barrier you created works?”

“Y-yes”, the court mage stuttered, and Anna Henrietta only barely contained a frustrated hissing sound inside her. Even her most spineless ministers could at least _pretend_ they were sure about something more convincingly than that. “Only a sorcerer can get through it… or someone helped by a sorcerer.”

“A witcher could not do it, then?”

“The magic that witchers have mastered is very, very primitive. Personally, I wouldn’t even classify it as magic, it’s more like…” the court mage took one glance at Anna Henrietta’s expression and changed the direction so fast both witchers and mages would have been impressed, “No, he couldn’t. He… he might have gotten into the illusion, but he would not be able to come out of it, or to help your sister to get out. Not through the passage blocked by the magic barrier, anyway.”

The surreptitious way the last sentence was added did not pass Anna Henrietta unnoticed.

“And what about the other exit I told you about? The one we did not block because it was too _laborious_ to create a magic barrier extending all the way up there?”

Anna Henrietta knew magic was similar to physical work in a sense that bigger and more complicated spells required more strength. Fringilla had told her not even the most skillful sorcerers could necessarily provide miracles overnight. But right now she only remembered the court mage pursing up his lips in a chagrined manner when she pointed at the secret escape route she and Syanna had discovered as children, hidden high up in the clouds, and saw a man who had wished to carry out his assignment with as little effort as possible.

The court mage gulped visibly. “But You… Your Grace agreed with me that… that since it was to be a temporary arrangement, a _short-term_ arrangement, it would be sufficient to make reaching said exit as difficult as possible… exceedingly different, p-practically impossible…”

“Really?” Anna Henrietta asked in her most honeyed voice. She knew very well she had finally assented to the court mage’s suggestion to hide the magic beans Syanna would require for getting to the secret portal, but she also knew – just as well as he did – this fact would not have even the smallest significance should she decide to throw him in prison for executing his duties unworthily. “Let us go and see if it has indeed proved to be impossible, then.”

The court mage looked anything but eager. During his first visit in the Land of a Thousand Fables he had had quite the scare when a group of faceless, murderous pixies popped out of nowhere and attacked him headfirst. He had reacted in rather undignified manner for a good while until remembering the existence of his magical abilities and being able to defend himself. 

“Your Enlightened Highness did not… remember to warn me… about the possibility of that happening”, the court mage had panted out, face dribbling sweat, and it was the most direct accusation Anna Henrietta recalled hearing from any of her subjects in a long time.

Anna Henrietta had been surprised herself. She knew Uncle Artorius had created the guard pixies and put them in the illusion as a safety measure for possible intruders but previously they had not been provoked about anyone who was in the company of her and Syanna. Upon hearing this, the court mage had explained – poorly hiding the lukewarmness in his voice – that spells and enchantments had their expiration dates as much as everything else. Undoubtedly Artorius Vigo had measured the maintenance of the Land of a Thousand Fables to last the ducal daughters’ childhood years, after which the illusion slowly started to run rampant without control and become more and more chaotic. However, it had quickly turned out the fairytale characters still recognized Anna Henrietta and Syanna and were not aggressive towards them, so Anna Henrietta had stuck with her plan to lock her sister in the book’s world.

This time they did not have to linger in the illusion long enough for a single pixie to smell the presence of an intruder. Immediately after materializing in the grass glimmering with nuggets up to her ankles Anna Henrietta saw precisely what she had been afraid of against the crystal blue firmament – a gigantic beanstalk had risen above the pink treetops, curling endlessly towards heights and finally disappearing in the flickering storm clouds and at the gates of the Giant’s fortress awaiting there. Of course, neither of those things were visible, the sky appeared to be perfectly serene from down below, but Anna Henrietta could feel the storm clearly in her heart and mind.

How many times had Syanna _borrowed_ Jack’s magic beans – as a child Anna Henrietta had been very good at ignoring the malicious, gleeful way Syanna delivered that word – so they could climb up there.

At first, the thought of climbing up the beanstalk had naturally terrified Anna Henrietta infinitely, but Syanna used all her tricks to persuade her to come along. Initially, she had tried her favorite way of calling her a coward and a wimp and when that did not work, relied on logic by pointing out that Uncle Artorius would not have created anything that was genuinely dangerous to them. And finally, when everything else had failed, Syanna crawled after her to that thicket sulking Anna Henrietta had retreated into and cuddled her tightly.

_“Hey, you trust me, right? I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”_

The last resort had worked every time and just as Syanna had promised, they found all kinds of secrets and surprises in the Giant’s castle. All of them, a goose that laid golden eggs included, had been overshadowed by a secret exit away from the Land of a Thousand Fables hidden in the well and opening out to the fountain in the Palace’s inner ward. It had been an awesome way to quickly sneak from under the watchful eye of their governess and it always made climbing the beanstalk worth the effort – even though glancing down from the heights had made Anna Henrietta’s little heart nearly burst out from her chest each time.

And despite all that, seeing the beanstalk had never made her as paralyzed with fear as it did now.

“Back. Take us. Now.”

Those were the only words she somehow managed to squeeze from her dry, pale lips and the court mage did not need to be convinced further, to put it mildly. 

Just a few fleeting moments later they were back at the palace playroom. The storybook carrying the Land of a Thousand Fables’ name fell from Anna Henrietta’s hands to the floor and was soon joined by a clattering tea set when she walked straight into the nearest table striving towards the door. She felt dizzy, her vision was dimming, and she supported herself against the first firm surface she could reach. It was a side table which also had an open book on it.

Anna Henrietta stared at the book. It was their governess’ diary in which she had recorded her observations back when she and Syanna had been children. The topmost sentence of the open page invaded Anna Henrietta’s mind – _“Today I accompanied the girls to the Land of a Thousand Fables for the first time”_ – it at least explained how the witcher had known to say the correct words to enter the illusion.

Because Anna Henrietta knew now the witcher had found the place, gone to Syanna’s assistance and helped her escape via the magic beans. For doing this he could have had exactly one motive and Anna Henrietta was horribly certain it had everything to do with the vampires suddenly stopping the attacks against the city and disappearing. 

Anna Henrietta grabbed the diary instinctively, pressed it against her chest and ran out of the playroom without giving the court mage another look. When the cold air, unnaturally chilling compared to Toussaint’s conventional climate, hit her in the face, she realized something else. Namely that the governess’ notes on the table might have given Geralt a hint about where Syanna was hidden and how he could get in there – but even though the witcher occasionally seemed to practically mock average thought process’ and natural proceedings, not even he should have gotten into his head to look for a captive criminal at the _playroom_.

Therefore, somebody had told him where Syanna was being held. Somebody who knew where Syanna had been taken to and opposed Anna Henrietta’s orders for the first time ever by revealing it, and had decided to do so despite knowing he would put on a stake at the very least his whole career, in worst case his life…

And then Anna Henrietta looked up and saw Damien approaching with the entire right side of his face as a blood-stained mess and all the commands and prohibitions and obeying and defying them and monarchy and allegiance lost meaning compared to the fact he was still alive right there in front of her and how just as well he could not have been, could have been gone, lost forever…

“Damien!” Anna Henrietta exclaimed and struggled more than she ever had before to prevent her voice from shattering completely.

“Your Grace!” Damien breathed. Even though the captain had always in his rigid professional pride refused to use that intimate nickname which the duchess allowed only for a few chosen people, his tone was pure _Anarietta_ and it trembled. “Thank the heavens you are unharmed!”

The same could not be said about Damien himself. His ear had been badly wounded and cuts from dreadful, gigantic claws started from the forehead and ran across the cheek and all the way to the neck. It seemed that if the blow had struck an inch lower it would have pierced an artery. Because Damien did not try to suppress the bleeding or wipe the blood away but preferred to let it flow, hindering his sight and speech, it was easy to deduce the wound did not endure any sort of touching.

“You need to find my ducal medic”, Anna Henrietta managed to say after a while, “Tell him to see to that.”

“What, this? A small surface scratch”, Damien said dismissively, and Anna Henrietta was not sure whether she loved or hated it more that he always insisted on acting so tough, “Many of my men have far more serious injuries, they need to be taken care of primarily – “

Only when Damien fell silent and looked at the fingers wrapped around his dirty, blood stained gauntlet did Anna Henrietta even realize she had reached out to hold Damien’s hand. Anna Henrietta was shaking and did not know what exactly was causing it. She recalled previously noticing that despite Damien’s stolid lineaments, his sapphire blue eyes occasionally had something almost tender in them, and then expelling that thought from her head as quickly as it had taken shape there.

“I need to find the witcher”, she said in a voice that should have said _embrace me_ , “He has done… something and I must find out what it is. But you need to at least make that bleeding stop, put herbs on it or – “

“I recommend arnica”, said a calm, almost serene voice suddenly next to them, “A cream produced from it is an excellent pain reliever.”

Regis had appeared quickly and unnoticed, almost as if he materialized from nothing. Anna Henrietta winced and instinctively let go of Damien’s hand even though Regis was looking entirely elsewhere, at the bodies and pools of blood surrounding them. The sight clearly revolted him, which was understandable – but it was still weird to see Regis’ normally so lofty and noble face twisted into near savage grimace. Regis’ other hand squeezed the strap of his leathery shoulder bag almost violently, but when he finally got himself together and took a bunch of small, yellow-flowered plants from the bag, his voice was as smooth and motionless as always.

“Unfortunately, this is all I have currently with me, but I trust them to grant temporary relief to the worst pain…”

“Regis”, Anna Henrietta said and noticed he would not look her directly in the eye but the tiniest amount to the side. There were no visible signs of fighting on Regis, but his eyes were reddened just about noticeably, and his clothes had plenty of dust and dirt on them. “Is – the witcher…”

“Geralt is on his way here. He has… performed his task.”

Anna Henrietta’s upmost instinct, the one that always demanded everything immediately, told her to make sure Regis’ answer meant the Beast of Beauclair was dead and her city and its residents safe. At the last moment she, however, remembered that despite everything that happened Dettlaff had been Regis’ friend and decided that the grey-haired man’s empty stare and lips pressed into a tight, white line told her everything she needed to know.

Besides, she assumed that since Regis was already here, it could not take the witcher that much longer to reach the Palace. But Geralt’s arrival took long enough for Regis to clean Damien’s wound – which seemed to cause equal amount of discomfort for both of them – prepare a basic ointment from the arnica and spread it on the scarlet red slits. Anna Henrietta reasoned that Regis had probably borrowed Geralt’s mount to get to tell the news as quickly as possible – but when the witcher finally approached along the Hauteville Bridge, he was on horseback. 

And it was not even the only thing to puzzle Anna Henrietta as they watched Geralt nearing them in an impenetrable silence. Anna Henrietta had heard that after a completed job witchers usually took some sort of trophy with them, a piece of the defeated monster as a proof to their employer, yet Geralt had nothing with him.

Of course, the circumstances were exceptional and in the name of honesty, Anna Henrietta did not necessarily even wish to receive a torn off head of a man she had only a week earlier discussed a spring fashion of Nazair with by the glass of wine. She found it much more concerning that Geralt indeed had nothing – or _nobody_ – with him but was arriving alone.

“Where is Syanna?”

The question came down from her lips completely by itself, like it had possessed its own will. Geralt’s face looked grisly, the skin was the color of grey and white blended together and thick, purple vessels had rammed on its surface, and his armor was covered all over with blood that might or might not originate from his own being. Instead of being asked demanding questions before he could even get down from his horse, he might have wanted to hear a thank-you for a job well done.

Anna Henrietta promised herself that _if_ the answer was what she hoped for, _if_ it really was a job well done and Syanna was safe, she would show Geralt her gratitude in abundance. She would repay him effusively – gold, his own vineyard, the Order of Vitis Vinifera, hell, even a dozen barrels of Sangreal’s exclusive vintage, the witcher would not be missing anything for as long as he lived, if only – _if only_ – 

Geralt looked at her with his expression as inscrutable as always, but there was a miniscule trace of uncertainty in his voice when he eventually responded:

“I suppose she’s exactly where Your Grace left her.” 

Anna Henrietta heard a clanging noise from behind her which told her that Damien had moved restlessly. 

Anna Henrietta was puzzled. If she had learned to count on something with Geralt, it was always getting straight, honest answers from him regardless of whether he expected them to please the hearer. The useless evasion and avoiding unpleasant facts did not belong in the witcher’s repertoire – mere hours earlier he had urged her to send her beagles out for a vampire chase if they were so much more skilled than a professional monster hunter. 

That commend had astounded Anna Henrietta so thoroughly she was not able to even truly experience wrath for it. And now she started to feel like telling things as they were might actually have its merits.

So, she looked Geralt straight in the eye and stated: “I know you went to the playroom and found a way into the Land of a Thousand Fables. And I know you helped Syanna escape and took her to meet Dettlaff.”

“That is true”, Geralt admitted without hesitation and looked back at her with his never-resting cat eyes, “But I have a reason to suspect that Syanna has since… returned to her original location.”

“But I… went to look, and…”

They kept staring at each other. Anna Henrietta’s voice fumbled, while the cracking of Geralt’s certainty showed itself as a quick help-asking glance he gave past Anna Henrietta, presumably to Regis.

“Your Grace looked for her sister at the Land of a Thousand Fables?” Regis asked politely, moving closer to them and immediately taking over the situation in that style of being prepared for everything he simply seemed to have born with, “And she was not there?”

“I… did not see her”, Anna Henrietta said slowly, “But I did not search – for long. Once I saw the beanstalk, I knew you had climbed it to reach the secret exit…”

Geralt confirmed her assumption, this time with just a silent nod.

“So Syanna is still in Fablesphere?” 

“We reached such conclusion through a logical chain of reasoning”, Regis said. He considered for a moment and then added: “And I entreatingly hope for it to be correct or otherwise Syanna could be anywhere at the moment.”

“Geralt, come with me”, Anna Henrietta hesitated and continued: “If you feel like you are up for it. I wish you would explain what this is all about.”

She was relieved to see the witcher nodding again, patting his horse’s neck briefly and then slapping its croup, after which the horse knew it was free to go and clattered to stuff its head into the nearest hedgerow. Anna Henrietta turned around.

“Damien, you are coming with us.”

Anna Henrietta knew there was no rational reason for Damien’s presence. She would not need protection against the guard pixies, the witcher would definitely not need protection other than his own sword, Damien had lost a lot of blood and was probably very weak. But Anna Henrietta _wanted_ him to come along, did not wish to let him out of her sight so soon, and it had nothing to do with reason.

“Yes, Your Grace.” _Anarietta._

“If you permit, I will leave myself out of this excursion”, Regis said tranquilly as they walked back towards the Palace and Anna Henrietta expressed her consent, “But it just crossed my mind that if the beanstalk remains upraised, don’t you find it likely that Syanna will attempt to utilize it for the purposes of escaping again?”

“True. Good point”, Geralt growled out, “The magic barrier should still be intact, but the beanstalk is within its borders so y – someone needs to stay and guard the fountain in case – “

“Palmerin!” Anna Henrietta yelled after glancing the fountain and seeing the extremely weary knight slouched on its stone railing. Palmerin looked like he had hobbled around the streets of Beauclair ignoring his injuries while trying to fulfill the duchess’ demand of finding Damien as fast as possible and was still chuffing in anguish. Despite all that, he stood up dutifully upon hearing his name and attempted to put on a brave face.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“I request you stay exactly where you are now and do not move until told otherwise.”

Palmerin could hardly have looked more relieved while tumbling back on the railing with a rattle from what was left of his armor. Regis sat down next to him.

“My good man, let me take a look at your injuries and see what can be done to alleviate your discomfort…”

Anna Henrietta trusted that Palmerin, no matter how exhausted, would notice if Syanna suddenly materialized in the water and did not linger to explain situation any further. Palmerin had made his opinion on Syanna’s crimes known prominently outspokenly, so there was no way he would allow her to escape, no matter how many of his limbs had been crushed.

“Now then”, Anna Henrietta said as they were walking up the stairs so rapidly she briefly considered ripping off yet another dress before the thought got buried under all the things more aggravating, “Please be so kind as to explain why you believe Syanna is still in the Land of a Thousand Fables even though you yourself helped her escape from there?”

“Would you prefer a long or a short version?” Geralt asked laconically.

“A short one, at least to begin with.”

“A magical ribbon teleported her there.”

Anna Henrietta stopped in the middle of her step but collected herself and went on so swiftly the witcher’s observant gaze was probably the only one to pick up the alteration in the rhythm of her walking. 

Anna Henrietta swallowed the dozens of questions that undoubtedly would have spawned at least the same amount of follow-up questions and stated comprehensively:

“And the long version then, if you please.”

And so Geralt told, talking in that familiar, leisured pace filling every single sentence with such weighty affairs Anna Henrietta got winded from listening just a couple of words. The shortness of breath was partly ensued by what she heard, too – how Geralt had found the governess’ diary from the playroom and with it discovered the way to enter the illusion created inside a book (only then Anna Henrietta remembered squeezing said diary the entire time and wondered what else the witcher had read from its pages before stumbling on the essential information), how he and Syanna had allied to search for the magic beans to get to talk to Dettlaff and how they, on the side, had both gotten to know each other better and butchered a fair amount of Fablesphere’s residents. 

But when Geralt started to talk about the ribbon Syanna had received from Artorius Vigo as a gift and winning it back from The Little Match Girl in a game of Gwent, Anna Henrietta stopped, permanently this time.

“Wait. You said that… Uncle Artorius gave us those ribbons when we were children, he said that they would protect us… We thought that they were meant to be lucky charms… Do you mean they _actually_ have some magical powers that protect from dangers?”

“To a great extent”, Geralt said, “And apparently their magic has remained in a much better condition than the illusion in the storybook. But Syanna did not know that – she wanted the ribbon back for its sentimental value, so I…”

Anna Henrietta’s head was spinning fiercely and judging from the fact that Damien, who so far had listened quietly aside, quickly stepped closer to place his hand on lower back, her condition was visible. She remembered those ribbons, dark red for Syanna and pink for her, they had worn them on their wrists tied to a bow for a long time, but solely because they looked pretty… It never crossed their minds that they would actually _do something_ if one of them happened to get in some sort of danger and as the daughters of the duke they had lived such a protected life the power of the ribbons never manifested itself…

For a split-second Anna Henrietta wondered why Uncle Artorius had not explained the matter while gifting the ribbons to them, and the understanding of the reason followed right after – he probably anticipated that upon hearing this, Syanna would have thrown herself headfirst from the Palace’s highest tower, just to see what happened.

Sure, Syanna had winded up in all sorts of tricky situations during her illicit trips outside the Palace walls, but they started only after she lost her ribbon, apparently on one of their adventures in Land of the Thousand Fables. Anna Henrietta stopped wearing hers after Syanna was banished and had not thought about it since, until now.

Wasted years, passed opportunities, they all delineated flowingly on her retinas. All those times Raymund had unleashed his rage on her, cornered her both figuratively and literally, made her genuinely fear for her life, she could have been completely safe. Syanna, instead of living as an outlaw for over a decade, sidestepping bandits, authority figures, freezing to death, starvation, and the ever-moving focus points of wars by turns, could have returned safely to her in Beauclair after the first close call.

This thought eventually made her wake up to another obvious fact – and judging by Geralt’s face when she said this fact out loud, he had expected the emergence of it for a while already. 

“If the ribbon’s powers transpired to you later, then… then Syanna had to be in mortal danger.”

“Yes.”

Anna Henrietta pictured the scene in her head. She saw a man she had discussed the spring fashion of Nazair with and whom she had described as _sensitive but lost_ , a deceived and enraged man who, after the revenge he wanted was withheld from him, egged an entire army of monsters on innocent bystanders. Then this sensitive, lost, deceived and enraged man was given what he had demanded –

“Was this mortal danger Dettlaff who intended to rip her to pieces?”

Geralt did not even blink en eye. “Yes.”

Anna Henrietta felt Damien’s warm grip on her back tightening as if to prepare for her losing consciousness. It was true that especially during the early days of her rule she had had the habit of expressing her shock about nearly any matter – some of them so trivial she would not even stand thinking about them after the events of this night – by dizziness or fainting. She remembered Julian ever and anon handing her a batiste handkerchief to snivel into and at that moment the memory sickened her infinitely.

She made a small gesture to let Damien know he could let go of her. She no longer felt dizzy, but rather the chilling honesty of the situation made her stand more stable than she yet had after seeing the first waves of vampires trundling above her city. 

“Tell me”, she began slowly. With anyone else she probably would have added she wanted the truth, not a glossed over version, but with Geralt she did not need to. “If Syanna did not have that ribbon… would you have had the situation under control? Would you have been able to protect her from Dettlaff?”

Geralt’s silence continued for too long and was therefore a sufficient answer on its own, but Anna Henrietta waited, nonetheless. 

“No”, the witcher finally answered, “I had ended up too far away. I would not have been fast enough to get involved.”

They were silent. Anna Henrietta assumed that about a week ago Damien would have seized the opportunity to make some biting comment. Now, however, he had received much more concrete information than he ever would have wanted to about the speed and destructiveness of vampires’ attacks and just said in a subdued voice:

“Your Grace, we… are wasting time. Your sister – “

“– is alive”, Anna Henrietta smashed her words right into Damien’s fumblingly truncated sentence, “Even if it is solely because of a fortunate accident, she still… is. You’re right.”

She turned around briskly and continued walking, trying her best not to sense the undisguisedly surprised looks that were being exchanged behind her.

“What did you expect to happen?” she asked anyway, after they had marched in silence for a little while, “You took her to meet a vampire who had sworn to destroy a city if she was not brought before him. What did you _think_ Dettlaff would do?”

“I thought Dettlaff would be willing to talk”, Geralt answered, “That he would give Syanna a chance to explain.”

“ _To talk?_ ” Anna Henrietta heard her own voice rising up to a falsetto-like crow, twirled around to face the witcher and for an instant saw him standing in front of her in that first audience forever ago when he and his hansa had arrived in Beauclair and it became clear that her own ministers were concealing information from her about Nilfgaard’s warfare. She quickly turned away and tried to lower her voice. “Ta… What in the world made you imagine he could be _talked to?”_

But she did realize that was exactly what they all had been doing, on Orianna’s terrace by the glass of wine: talking. And how did that conversation go again – Dettlaff had asked if Geralt would be ready to help a monster rather than kill it and Geralt had answered yes, if it was in any way possible. Anna Henrietta cursed silently in a manner that would have made her entire court go pale with fear. How could have she been so _blind?_

“Syanna went to meet Dettlaff voluntarily”, Geralt finally pointed out, “It was her opinion that she could handle it.”

“Is that relevant?”

“In my mind, yes.”

Anna Henrietta pondered. The conversation at Orianna’s table might have been enigmatic and ambiguous but it was still too thin of a crust for the witcher to make that profound interpretations about Dettlaff. He himself had said he did not know Dettlaff well at all.

Regis and Syanna, in turn, had both known Dettlaff better and for a longer time. It was clear Geralt trusted Regis’ discernment. The witcher avoided saying it, but Anna Henrietta suspected that Regis had specifically vouched for Dettlaff, assured he would not attack Syanna right away at the sight of her. 

If this was the case – if Regis had, till the last, absolutely last possible moment, wanted to believe in his friend’s quintessential goodness, even though everything around him seemed to prove otherwise, his behavior had been stubborn, naïve and gullible… and Anna Henrietta understood him better than anyone.

Syanna, in turn, had even as a child liked to think herself as a person capable of wrapping others around her finger. In reality, Syanna just used to remember far more clearly the times her eloquence worked and fluently ignored the people she never managed to win over, most notably her parents and their advisors. There were many of those who had been mesmerized by Syanna – Anna Henrietta knew she had belonged in that group herself – and evidently Dettlaff was once one of them. But had Syanna really thought she would be able to worm her way out of his claws by talking because of that?

Had Syanna simply miscalculated Dettlaff as well? Or had she decided to sacrifice herself to make the bloodbath in Beauclair stop?

Or – and this thought swoop uninvitedly through her head and left a layer of ice behind – had she anticipated perfectly well what Dettlaff would do and settled for wishing it would at least happen quickly?

Anna Henrietta could not believe Syanna purposely wanted to die. But it was by no means the first thing her faith had been tested about lately and she did not expect it to be the last.

“Yes”, she ultimately admitted, “I suppose it is.”

They climbed the last stairs at the playroom’s door. Anna Henrietta had not even thought about the magic barriers still surrounding the storybook and did not remember the court mage’s existence until she saw him sitting on the nearest bench and quickly shoehorning something most definitely resembling a hip flask back to the cover of his robes. 

“You were not permitted to leave yet!” Anna Henrietta roared immediately, as if visiting the illusion twice had been her obvious intention from the start and the court mage was an idiot for not realizing this, “Get up, we are going back!”

It seemed that Anna Henrietta would have to implement her plan of finding a new sorcerer for her court fairly soon, for the mage’s expression revealed he was intensively picturing a relaxed retirement in some place as far away from Toussaint as possible. The expression was not eased up by the sight of Damien’s slashed face nor Geralt’s blood-stained armor. And once they reached the gingerbread house and saw what was left of the Wicked Witch after Geralt’s handling, they had to stop and wait so the mage could throw up to the nearest flowerbed. 

For Anna Henrietta, the Witch’s state was mainly a cause of mild curiosity. They – principally Syanna – had helped Hansel and Gretel escape the Witch’s claws and roasted her in her own oven too many times to count, but each time they came for their next visit she was as good as new and always eager to make schemes posing problems to the children. 

“Don’t the fairytale characters regenerate anymore?” Anna Henrietta asked, gesturing at the remains scattered around the cauldron and the broomstick, “Usually they have not stayed dead for this long. Is that another side effect of the enchantment expiring?”

“I think the characters were created for one sole purpose in the first place – to repeat the events of their fairy tale whenever you and Syanna were present”, Geralt said, “As long as they followed the formula they returned to their original positions afterwards, but if they deviated from the script, so to speak… Well, the Big Bad Wolf told us he had clobbered the Little Red Riding-Hood and drowned her in the well as a payback for all the times the same was done to him, and her state seemed very permanent.”

In some other situation the look on Damien’s face would have probably amused Anna Henrietta – he was staring at Geralt and looked like half of him tried to understand what he had just heart and the other half was convinced that understanding would only make it harder to comprehend. 

The court mage finally pulled himself together but when they moved on, he was walking slowly, tottered and dropped behind, which Anna Henrietta was grateful for because Geralt’s last words had stuck in her mind. When the mage and Damien who was proceeding tardily to keep him company were out of earshot, she said:

“The Big Bad Wolf wanted to take revenge on the Little Red Riding-Hood? He was… bitter?”

“His stomach was repeatedly torn open and stuffed full of rocks”, Geralt answered acridly laconically, “One could say people have gotten crossed for less.”

Anna Henrietta tried to bring back memories from her childhood, which felt strange and even challenging after all the years of actively keeping them at bay simply because it had been the only way to move on. The Big Bad Wolf had often moaned about a hangover and made sarcastic comments, but Anna Henrietta did not recall him ever complaining about his role as the story’s villain or refusing to play the part. Then again, how much choice did he have if they were not allowed to deviate from the script…

“I never thought about it like that”, she admitted.

“You were children. Why would’ve you?” Geralt murmured, “If the person’s name is Big _Bad_ or _Wicked_ Witch it’s going to create certain presuppositions. People consider many creatures – including each other – to be evil with much flimsier evidence. The profession of witcher exists due to this way of thinking. It also furthers things like war and racial oppression, because it’s easier for people to accept a punishment someone receives if they have already decided it is deserved.”

Anna Henrietta did not struggle to understand how far yet still so close they had moved from little girls cheering a hunter killing a wolf because they had been told the wolf was evil and would eat them all if not stopped. When princesses possessed by the Black Sun had been locked up in towers and banished from their kingdoms it had been justified the same way – it simply _had_ to be done, otherwise everyone would suffer even worse fate.

“They were rather interesting, the Wicked Witch and the Big Bad Wolf”, Geralt continued unexpectedly.

Anna Henrietta knew very well the witcher never said anything just to make frivolous small talk and glanced over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“They were both put in the role of an enemy without anyone asking whether they wanted it themselves or not. When they were released from that role – that is, once you stopped visiting this place – both continued doing what they had gotten used to, but in different ways. The Big Bad Wolf only targeted his anger and cruelty on those he held a grudge for. He seemed to get along well enough with other fairytale characters, even getting drunk with them from time to time. Whereas the Wicked Witch seemed to continue hunting children and roasting them for dinner even though she no longer had any obligation to do so – even children who, for all we know, had never caused her any trouble. Just because she wanted to.”

“So, some of those who are labeled bad end up being so, whereas others might have chosen a completely different road if they were given an option?”

“Something like that”, Geralt smirked, “It’s just a shame people rarely stop to ask the opinions of those they are afraid of. They rather make their fears loud and clear and then the feared ones are so full of bottled-up wrath it’s almost impossible to say whether it was inside them from the beginning or not.”

Once again Anna Henrietta thought about Dettlaff and Syanna. They had both gotten used to being considered dangerous due to beliefs about vampires and the Curse of the Black Sun respectively – and once driven over the edge, both became the exact thing people had expected. The Witch had eventually put any child she could get her hands on in her oven along Hansel and Gretel, and likewise Dettlaff had allowed his hatred for one woman trundle uncontrollably over practically the entire humankind. Syanna, in turn, attacked the very people who had offended her personally, with considered, deliberate accuracy, and a sheer pleasure of revenge as her motive. 

“It almost makes you wonder”, Geralt said quietly, “If the Big Bad Wolf would’ve ever butchered the Little Red Riding-Hood had he just been left alone.”

They walked uphill and arrived on the spot they could see the beanstalk clearly from and where Geralt told he and Syanna had found unicorns on his first visit. They waited for Damien and the court mage to catch up, and Anna Henrietta pointed at the beanstalk when they did.

“Do… something about that”, she commanded.

The court mage blinked several times. “What… umm, what would Your Grace wish I did about it exactly?”

“I don’t know!” Anna Henrietta said impatiently, “Make it… unusable in some way. Prevent anyone from climbing it.”

“Shall I cut it down? Or burn it?”

“It’s risky to cut down something as big as that, we might get squished under it”, Geralt said dryly, “And I wouldn’t recommend setting it on fire in case Syanna has already started climbing.”

It was difficult to say whether the court mage looked sour because a witcher was telling him how to do his job or because a witcher was implying he would not be able to bring the beanstalk down in a controlled manner. It seemed that mostly the court mage would have preferred to blow the beanstalk sky-high, not giving a fuck about who got struck by the flying pieces – but once he had muttered some silent magic words and flicked his hands a few times, the beanstalk was surrounded by the same magic barrier glowing in pastel colors that had originally blocked the Fablesphere’s main entrance. 

“Good”, Anna Henrietta said and turned to Geralt, “How shall we find Syanna? Do you have any idea where in here she would… materialize to upon returning?”

“None at all”, Geralt answered, “But we can ask the person who likes to keep himself up-to-date about everything happening around him.”

He nodded at something that was further away and when Anna Henrietta turned to look, she saw Joss sitting on a large stump, swinging his feet. She had not noticed him earlier, for the boy was uncharacteristically silent. Once they walked closer, Anna Henrietta thought she knew the reason: around the stump lay half a dozen wolf carcasses – their fate was easily deduced from the fact a sword had sliced their meat at several places – and therefore Joss was uncertain what to yell since there were indeed wolves nearby but he was not in any kind of danger because of them.

Soon Joss received a new talking point, however, and after a swift interrogation they found out Syanna had absolutely not appeared in the middle of the pathway out of thin air and immediately lost consciousness, and after reviving she _certainly had not_ left in a great hurry towards the field the beanstalk was planted in – and _if_ all of that had by some miracle happened, then at least it had been a long time, not just a moment, ago.

Of course, just a moment could mean anything in the Land of a Thousand Fables, but before Anna Henrietta had time to consider how to find out if Syanna had already escaped again, they heard a loud and immensely multiform flood of curses from the beanstalk’s direction, which made all the uncertainty about the situation disappear. When they approached the beanstalk as quickly as possible, Anna Henrietta recognized a couple of Nilfgaardian insults she had once taught Syanna herself to their governess’ dismay and her heart almost failed her again.

Anna Henrietta had never seen Syanna lose her temper so uncontrolledly. As children, it had always been Anna Henrietta herself whose anger and displeasure were loud and clear – and in the name of honesty it had to be said the tantrums involving hissy fits and throwing things were not completely absent in her adulthood either. Syanna, on the contrary, had never wasted her energy on foaming and rampaging, but instead dammed up the anger inside her and expressed it in much more patient and, in the end, much, much more malicious ways. If their parents had annoyed her, Syanna could, for example, go on hunger strike or pretend everything was fine for weeks before paying back multiple times for a fight other parties had blissfully forgotten by then.

But now Syanna stood there, hair ruffled, clearly looking like it had been torn, staring wide-eyed at the magic barrier that had appeared around the beanstalk and lunging her hand and foot into it again and again, like she was completely sure it would disappear if only she hit hard enough.

And when Syanna noticed them approaching, she did not look surprised in the slightest but seemed to just have waited when they would deign to arrive.

“Don’t you ever get tired of _always_ ruining everything?!” she bellowed, threw herself against the magic barrier at full strength one more time and instantly flew backwards with a nasty flash, “I was _just_ about to grab – no fucking way – if it had been one second later… how do you _always_ manage – “

Anna Henrietta could do nothing except watch how Syanna continued to plunge at the wall with the desperation of a trapped wild animal simply not able to understand the significance of bars. 

“Let me _out_ of here!”

“I recommend you not to touch it anymore”, the court mage said suddenly as Syanna was once again catapulted backwards by the spell and this time the flash was accompanied by a crisp, cranky hiss, “The barrier is not going anywhere and the more aggressively you try to get through the more aggressively it will repel you.”

“Shut your trap you sodding old geezer!” Syanna screamed, but still paid attention to the whole group that had appeared in front of her for the first time. She pressed one hand on her ribs – apparently the flashes from the magic barrier indeed caused physical pain – and used the other to point at Geralt. “And where are you going to take me to be killed next? He already tried to let Dettlaff slaughter me once!”

“Geralt fought Dettlaff and won”, Anna Henrietta said hastily, “You are safe – “

“Bullshit! He sat and watched without a care in the world how Dettlaff attempted to tear my entrails out! The only reason I’m even alive is my – do… do you have my ribbon?”

Syanna’s heated stare stuck on Geralt, and Anna Henrietta also turned to him. She had not asked about it because she instinctively assumed the ribbon had stayed in Syanna’s hands – but then again, how could have Geralt known it was the exact reason for Syanna’s disappearance if that was the case?

And Geralt nodded slowly and took the red ribbon from his pocket. Anna Henrietta quickly reached out her hand and Geralt gave the ribbon to her. She stared at its silky surface when it curled along the lines on her palm and looked so ordinary, harmless and absolutely lacking any and all magical capabilities.

“Give it to me”, Syanna said, her voice suddenly smoothen, quiet and much more threatening than it had been when she was yelling.

Anna Henrietta did not move. Syanna took one step closer.

“Give it to me”, she repeated slowly, “It is mine. Bloody hell, it’s _mine_. It’s the one thing I still have left.”

“Your Grace”, Damien said from somewhere very far away, from other dimension and other life, “If… If that ribbon truly has magical powers, it by no means can be handed over to a prisoner.”

Syanna took another step closer to her and stretched out her hand demandingly. Anna Henrietta’s fingers wrapped around the ribbon and she made a backward movement that was just barely perceptible for a naked eye. 

Then too many things happened all at once.

The second she saw Anna Henrietta backing off Syanna rushed towards her, arm outstretched, and was flung several feet aback with a bang as Geralt reacted by swinging some kind of invisible force field from his hand. Damien had whipped his sword out and before Syanna could even get back on her feet the court mage conjured yet another magic barrier around her, this time making a bubble-shaped cage.

“Stop! _Stop!_ ” Anna Henrietta yelled even though nobody was even moving anymore. She felt tears stinging in her eyes as she watched from the other side of the shiny wall how Syanna struggled up from the soil and looked at her new prison furiously.

“Well, no matter”, she spat, “You’ve already taken everything else that belonged to me. What’s one ribbon on top of all that? Just add to the collection.”

Anna Henrietta’s eyes were scorching, but she turned her head, pushed her fingernails deep into her palms and somehow managed to swallow down the sobs climbing up her throat. She told herself Syanna was only trying to provoke her, even though she did not even know what Syanna hoped to accomplish by doing so. Was she trying to get Anna Henrietta to return the ribbon out of sympathy? Or to order the removal of the magic wall so they could tussle like when they were children battling for their favorite toys?

Did Syanna not understand Anna Henrietta was already bending over backwards trying to protect her from a death penalty? Surely Syanna had to know she was not doing herself any favors by attempting to assail her.

As a verification Damien stepped closer, sword still in hand, and said:

“Your Grace, I think it would be best to move Sylvia Anna somewhere – else…” Anna Henrietta could not bear looking him in the eye but heard Damien considering how to say prison without saying prison, “… to await for a trial. You know the council will insist it.”

“Yes, for gods’ sake, we would not want to irritate the council. What a scandal that would be, what a blow to the image, which notoriously is all you care about”, Syanna snorted, crossing her arms and flicking her head arrogantly. Now that she was literally besieged, she seemed to be aware that there was no escape and had once again adopted her more familiar role where anger was expressed as coldness and pungency. “But if you’re going to throw me in the dungeon, I’ll need Artorius’ ribbon back after all. Nothing less is going to protect me, because angry vampires go through any hedges and walls on their way to strike their claws into me.”

“You don’t need to worry about Dettlaff anymore”, Geralt threw in, “Like we said, he’s dead.”

“And like I said, bullshit!” Syanna’s voice rose quickly, “Dettlaff is a higher vampire, you cannot kill him!”

Geralt’s silence after Syanna’s words made Anna Henrietta glance at the witcher. But when Geralt finally spoke, his voice was stable as a stone.

“I have my ways.”

“Well, rather impressive you managed to pull it off!” Syanna said mockingly, “Because Dettlaff himself once told me that a higher vampire can only be killed by another – “

Syanna fell silent as she met Geralt’s gaze and for a fleeting moment it looked like she had just comprehended something.

“Oh. Okay”, she said, with her expression back to neutral after a second. Then she quickly spat out the words that had always caused her difficulties, in a way that was easiest for her to get through them: “Thank you.”

Geralt only gave her a deadpan nod. Then he turned to Anna Henrietta.

“If you want my opinion”, he said, “I think Damien’s right. Now that Dettlaff is out of the picture, it would be wise to transfer Syanna to a more traditional place. The spells in here have expired ages ago and in all probability, they are only going to get more erratic.”

“I have never seen an illusion this badly broken”, the court mage declaimed lukewarmly while he could only dream to ever be able to create anything nearly as impressive.

“Before long, the magical entropy will inevitably begin rejecting you two among everything else”, Geralt continued, “Most of the fairytale characters have so far refrained from attacking you but that giant up there in the clouds, for example, was already very aggressive.”

Palmerin’s words about enraged Beauclairoise storming in with pitchforks if Syanna was not brought to court otherwise recurred to Anna Henrietta. In her mind, Fablesphere had always been the sanctuary from their childhood, a magical wonderland where everything was fine. However, now those same childhood memories attempted to drive them off, were full of anger or lay on the ground, slashed to pieces, irreversibly altered, permanently ruined.

Maybe it was like some twisted metaphor. The joyful magical land of her childhood was shattered to slivers and similarly her beloved big sister, who she had ventured in that land for countless carefree days with, stood in front of her hands full of blood and heart even more filled with bitterness.

“Your Grace – “ Damien started again, stepped almost right next to her and saw from her expression how close to the breaking point she was, “What shall we do?”

For a moment, they looked at each other intensively, and Damien’s eyes and voice were so full of care for her that Anna Henrietta noticed from the corner of her eye how Syanna stared at them and then, almost unintentionally, raised her eyebrows suggestively. And for a second, in some ridiculous way, they were back in their early teens and Syanna had managed to dig up which of her father’s soldiers she secretly had a crush on and Anna Henrietta just _knew_ she would milk fun out of the situation for weeks to come.

“Sylvia Anna has committed terrible crimes”, Damien spoke again, and the moment disappeared, and Anna Henrietta feared that so would disappear the feeling that everything might yet end well that the moment had caused, “She must be treated like a criminal. Even if you intend to grant her full pardon, it must be done according to traditions, via an interrogation and a trial – “

“I know, Damien, I… know.”

Damien fell silent and lowered his head. It was completely quiet for a while and Anna Henrietta was aware everyone waited for her to say something.

“Well, what the fuck is taking so long?” Syanna asked eventually. She slid her left hand behind her back and the previous moment had disappeared so far away Anna Henrietta seriously started to question if it really happened at all. “Waiting for me to start begging for mercy, are you? In that case we will be stuck here for a while, I can tell you that. I’m not in a hurry, naturally, but I’m sure you have some pompous ceremony or gaudy feast you need to be in. And your little escort, your boyfriend included, looks like it would gladly get the hell out of here already.”

Of course, Damien remained straight-faced as always. The court mage did not do such a good job covering up the fact Syanna’s words applied to him – he kept leering over his shoulders and to his sides, anxiously waiting for the appearance of murderous guard pixies. Geralt said nothing, but since he had already done his part defined by the contract and received several physical injuries while doing so, Anna Henrietta assumed that above all the witcher yearned for a hot meal, a bath and a rest instead of an excursion in a fairytale land.

“Captain de la Tour”, Anna Henrietta finally said, “Move Sylvia Anna to a tower. In a room that has a view over Beauclair.”

Damien nodded, put his sword back to the scabbard and picked up the handcuffs hanging from his belt. Anna Henrietta saw Syanna’s eyes flashing as she retreated and could not stop herself from stirring restlessly. Damien looked at her.

“So be it”, Anna Henrietta said, “But only for the duration of the trip. No chains in the tower, but guards – one outside the door, two inside the room, at all times. Nobody is allowed in or out except when changing the shift.”

“Yes, Your Grace”, Damien said, detached the handcuffs from his belt, stepped closer to Syanna and looked at the court mage expectantly. The mage stared back like he did not have the slightest idea what Damien could possibly want from him.

“Be so good as to remove the magic barrier surrounding my sister”, Anna Henrietta said, surprising even herself by the tranquility of her voice.

“Are you completely… sure?” the court mage blurted after gagging for a moment and the word he originally meant to end the sentence with and managed to choke down in the last second would have probably costed him his head, “She is armed!”

Everyone turned to look at Syanna. It was rather unbelievable that until now no one had paid attention to a blood-stained axe tied to her waist. Geralt seemed quite intrigued observing it.

“Who did you take _that_ from, then?” he asked.

“Redbeard”, Syanna hissed, “That dwarf you bumped off when we freed the goose that laid golden eggs.”

Anna Henrietta decided right away to pretend she did not hear the answer, because the line about how many things one could take in at once simply had to drawn at some point. 

“You went to fetch it after you regained consciousness and noticed you had ended up back here”, Geralt was not asking anymore, just noting with something that was nearly a smile.

“Yes, I did”, Syanna spat, “I was not about to leave this place unarmed. Even if the vampires were not going to lynch me, the townies certainly would have.”

Geralt did not respond, but the almost-smile stayed on his lips and Syanna was glaring at him. Anna Henrietta understood that the time it took Syanna to acquire a weapon had been decisive for them to reach Fablesphere in time to prevent her second escape.

She did not believe for a second Syanna would have succeeded in escaping even if she managed to climb the beanstalk. She was much more terrified by the thought of Syanna indeed emerging in the middle of infuriated residents of Beauclair and knights mourning their brutally murdered associates.

“Surely you understand you’ll have to put it away before we can make any progress?” Geralt said.

Syanna was stock-still but immediately twigged that Geralt was about to raise his hand.

“Don’t you _dare_ to use some witcher’s mind control tricks on me!” 

“Show co-operation skills on your own terms, and I don’t need to.”

“Syanna”, Anna Henrietta appealed, because Geralt sounded like a tired man who just wanted to go home after a long workday and was ready to do whatever it took, “Please.”

She did not think Syanna outright cared about her plea. More likely she just made the same conclusion about Geralt, summed up the results and saw a situation where she has hopelessly outnumbered. Anna Henrietta saw it was a tough blow for Syanna’s pride to detach the axe from her belt and hurl it away – but even tougher blow would have been to get physically overpowered and carried to the tower involuntarily.

The court mage still looked reluctant to remove the shields surrounding Syanna. Anna Henrietta reckoned she knew why the mage was scared by the mere presence of Syanna, and her opinion of the man, already at the rock-bottom, sank few more inches into the ground.

Syanna, however, remained still while the magic barrier melted away, put her hands behind her back by herself and looked Damien presumptuously straight in the eye as he started to approach her slowly.

“Stay calm”, Anna Henrietta muttered so quietly nobody except the witcher could hear, and did not even know to who her silent request was aimed for: Damien, who was looking at Syanna with an expression poisoned by repressed rage, or Syanna, who was looking back derisively and evaluatively.

When Damien leaned to put the handcuffs on Syanna’s wrists, she stared openly at the scars on his face and smiled wryly. 

“Usually you have liked them a bit prettier”, she said to Anna Henrietta, “But apparently this one at least knows how to fight, if the need arises.”

Anna Henrietta hated how quickly the heat spread across her neck and cheeks. But Damien straightened up calmly and gestured Syanna to walk in front of him. 

“I hope you shall not give me a reason to prove it concretely”, he said, “Her Grace wishes for you to remain unharmed.”

“Don’t worry, handsome. I promise to be on my best behavior”, Syanna replied, flapping her eyelashes.

Anna Henrietta could not stand to watch the scene for several reasons, so she turned at the court mage.

“Let’s leave.”

The court mage removed the magic barrier from around the Land of the Thousand Fables as they exited, and once they had materialized back to the playroom Anna Henrietta put the book back in its cabinet and locket the door. She did not know yet, let alone had the energy to think what she would do about the illusion. Surely it could be fixed back to at least decent condition – especially as soon as she’d hire a more skillful sorcerer – but would it be worth the effort? 

Once, so long ago, Anna Henrietta had trouble believing it was even the same person, she had planned passing the book on to her children. The thought about offspring had withered away the moment she realized what kind of worthless bastard her parents had married her off to and after that it just did not become topical. And after everything she had seen and heard tonight, she was no longer sure if she wanted to force the fairytale characters to perform the one prescribed role from day to day, year in year out.

She was about to place the other book, the governess’ diary, back on the side table when Geralt suddenly spoke.

“Syanna might want to have something to read while in the tower.”

“Oh, hell yes. There’s nothing better than a little pleasure reading while waiting to be executed”, Syanna snorted.

Anna Henrietta looked at Geralt questioningly, but he said nothing more. Finally, Anna Henrietta nodded slowly and gave the diary to Damien who fortunately did not question anything.

The sun was already rising when they stepped out on the patio. People were everywhere, guards and knights carrying their deceased comrades away and servants scrubbing blood off the pavements or rushing about with medical instruments. All stopped to bow to Anna Henrietta and express their effusive relief she had survived the night’s dangers unharmed. Each time felt more and more awkward to Anna Henrietta – after all, all throughout the attack she had been as safe as the circumstances allowed and around her there were still numerous individuals who were injured severely and visibly and needed help fast.

Damien gathered three of the nearest guardsmen, handed Syanna over to them and repeated Anna Henrietta’s instructions about watching the tower. He told them he would come to check the situation as soon as possible and sent the convoy on its way. Anna Henrietta wanted to say something to Syanna even though she could not come up with anything, but Syanna took care not to even glance at her direction anymore. So, she settled for staring at her sister’s back as she was receding until she vanished from sight, and then Damien talked to Geralt like through some kind of attenuating curtain.

“The fact that the Beast’s murders appeared to punish the victims for abandoning the chivalric virtues – it was all just a diversion?”

“Yes”, Geralt said, “It was probably Syanna’s exact goal to get the folk talking about a righteous, mystical creature who cherishes Toussaint’s age-old values. With careful planning and staging nobody noticed the murdered knights’ connections to each other and to her before it was… too late.”

Damien looked like he was devouring something that tasted extremely bad – as if he was ever so slightly impressed by how cunning Syanna had been but tried hard to prevent such feeling.

“She must have collected information in abundance beforehand”, Damien stated, as they started walking. Anna Henrietta vaguely realized they no longer had a common objective, but for some reason they all seemed to be headed back to the fountain. “Otherwise she would not have been able to blame each victim for abandoning the very virtue that seemed the most plausible. And she would not have known that Milton de Peyrac-Peyran was named for the title role in the Hare Hunt…”

“Syanna probably had several spies in Beauclair”, Geralt estimated, “I believe they all got killed during the capture of Dun Tynne, however. And even if someone managed to escape, they are not coming back after what they saw there.”

Damien nodded thoughtfully. Then he growled crustily. 

“It makes you think”, he said, “Just how long was Sylvia Anna dwelling in Dun Tynne before being found? Did Roderick truly not see it as his obligation to announce he was sheltering a long-lost member of the ducal family in his house? And supposedly he knew nothing about Sylvia Anna’s schemes – the murders, the thefts? Surely he had to know what has happening right under his roof!”

“Could be. Could also be he was just one of the many people Syanna played like a fiddle. If he recovers from the wounds he received during his failed getaway, you can certainly interrogate him in more detail.”

Anna Henrietta did not give a damn about Roderick at that very moment. Instead she tortured herself by wondering if it indeed would have been possible to find Syanna earlier. Maybe, if they had noticed the connection between the murdered knights a little sooner, something could have been done… Or if they had somehow found out about the theft of the Sangreal some other way, she may have been able to realize the incidents were connected, to deduce who was behind it all and who the next victim would be… maybe Milton could have been saved, at least…

Anna Henrietta tried not to linger in these futile thoughts too much. The connection between Milton, du Lac, Crespi and de la Croix felt apparent immediately after realization, but actually their team fell apart well over a decade ago and they had rarely been in contact with one another since. And by what miracle could they have noticed any earlier that one barrel of Sangreal in a closely guarded cellar was switched for cheap plonk? It was a lucky enough coincidence that they had noticed it when they did.

Besides, guessing Milton was to be the fourth victim probably would not have changed anything. Anna Henrietta could have nominated someone else for the role of the Hare, but since Syanna had decided to murder Milton she would’ve just come up with something else to represent cowardice instead. Protecting and guarding Milton would’ve also been in vain – Dettlaff had proved that many times.

Understanding that none of Syanna’s chosen victims had any hope of surviving from the start did not make Anna Henrietta feel better. It, however, brought up an even more burning question – why had Syanna chosen those knights to be her victims and, on top of that, carefully arranged them to die in the most gruesome, humiliating ways?

As if he had read her mind, Damien asked:

“Why, then? Since the chivalric virtues had nothing to do with it, what was Sylvia Anna’s motive for committing those murders?”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Eltibald’s prophecy”, said the court mage, whose presence everyone else had blissfully forgotten about till now, “But it’s about girls, especially ones born into dynasties and other ruling families, that came into this world during an eclipse – “

“Thank you, this was all I needed from you”, Anna Henrietta interrupted, “You may go.”

So freezing cold was her voice, the court mage did not linger about. He scampered off as fast as his feet could carry him, stumbling on his robes, and Anna Henrietta was pleased to notice Geralt was also looking at him go with disgust on his face.

Then the witcher turned back to Damien.

“Syanna’s motive was revenge. In all its simplicity”, he said, “De Peyrac-Peyran, de la Croix, du Lac and Crespi were the knights who escorted her out of Toussaint when she was banished.”

“Is that all?” Damien asked skeptically, “Knights follow the orders they are given. You’d think her anger was more aimed at the council responsible for the expulsion decision.”

Anna Henrietta, who just mere moments ago had pondered about the rift between Milton and the three other knights, stopped dead in her tracks. She was struck by a feeling that the diverging of the former friends had begun very soon after they returned from that journey to the borders of Caed Dhu. The gossip in the court was that the friction between the knights was caused by _deeply seated difference of opinion_ , but at that time, as a child, Anna Henrietta had not paid this rumor any attention.

But now she was filled with dreadful suspicions down to every bone and tendon.

“Did something happen during that journey?” she asked, her voice trembling, “Something that made Syanna want revenge?”

The longer Geralt’s silence continued, the more horrible Anna Henrietta’s suspicions became. Those men had been _knights_ , loyal servants of her father, later loyal servants of _her_ – but something happened on that journey, that much was clear – and Syanna had been 16 years old, exceedingly beautiful, completely helpless and still considered dangerous, stripped of the protection of her position and the laws of the duchy, and entirely at their mercy – 

“That is something you’ll have to ask Syanna herself”, Geralt finally said with a voice that expertly combined politeness and absoluteness, “Whether she wants to tell you is her decision.”

Anna Henrietta noticed they had arrived at the fountain. Palmerin and Regis were still sitting there, latter maintaining a conversation about how birds, especially ravens, were supremely clever animals.

Anna Henrietta forced her suspicions to quiet down – she could not allow them to turn into conclusions, not right here, not now, not yet. She would talk to Syanna later, would ask her, even though the answers she could potentially receive terrified her more than anything had during the entirety of the vampire’s attack. 

“Thank you for waiting”, she said as both men stood up when they approached, “Palmerin, they are tending to the wounded in the Palace. Please go there if you feel up for it.”

Anna Henrietta looked at Palmerin’s pale face as he bowed laboriously and limped towards the stairs. She wondered if Milton had ever told his new friend anything about the reasons behind diverging with his old comrades. Had he perhaps seen a side of them he could not turn a blind eye on? Or had he noticed some such side within himself?

Had Milton decided to leave the events of that journey behind him and start anew, or did he have regrets until the very end? Could Milton even have realized who were getting slaughtered by the Beast and guessed the true reason of the murders? Was it possible he had anticipated he would be the next victim, but was too ashamed of his past to open his mouth and talk about his conjectures?

Regis was still standing at the fountain, numerous pieces of steel and fabric at his feet. Apparently, he had somehow managed to help Palmerin out of his crushed armor without any sort of equipment.

“Is everything in order for now?” he asked.

Geralt nodded and whistled at his horse, who stopped eating the nearby flower planting and clattered closer.

“Geralt, wait a moment”, Anna Henrietta requested. She could have sworn that for a second there was a flash of pure prolonged suffering in Regis’ eyes, like every moment spent inside the Palace walls caused him physical pain. Right away it was gone, however, and Regis just looked incomprehensibly tired, and Anna Henrietta understood him – they were all exhausted, only wanted all of this at least to be over, if not a bad dream – but she had to ask one more question that would not give her peace otherwise.

“What Syanna said… That vampires could not be killed by ordinary methods. You said the same thing yourself when we were on the road to Castel Ravello. What… how did you… How did you manage with Dettlaff, then?”

Geralt took his time, stroking his horse’s muzzle. He did not face Anna Henrietta, which was strange. Regis was also staring at the witcher.

“Higher vampire can be ultimately, irreversibly killed by only another higher vampire. From everything else they are able to regenerate before long”, Geralt began eventually, “Still, there are many different ways, certain poisons, materials, actions that can be performed to hamper the regeneration process, make it slower, almost impossible…”

Geralt paused, glancing quickly at Regis.

“You understand, I’m sure, that if the regeneration takes hundred, even two hundred years, to an ordinary human that’s practically the same thing as death… even if it’s like a blink of an eye to a vampire.”

Anna Henrietta thought about what she had heard and after a moment’s consideration decided she did not wish to know what were those regeneration hampering measures Geralt had undoubtedly resorted to after defeating Dettlaff.

“And you are sure Dettlaff shall not return – from our perspective – ever again?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“No”, Geralt said, “I can only give you my word.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“That’s good enough for me”, Anna Henrietta said.

Geralt nodded.

“As for your reward”, Anna Henrietta continued, trying to rediscover her ducal tone, “Are you planning on staying in Toussaint for a while? We hope you do not intend to go hunting for your next monster right away.”

“I don’t have any other contracts waiting. And since I own a house for the first time in my life, the new bed I recently acquired there feels like a very viable option right now.”

“Good”, Anna Henrietta said, “For we have decided you shall receive your gold in the same ceremony in which you are granted, as a commendation for tonight’s heroic deeds, the Order of Vitis Vinifera.”

Since Geralt’s expression was the embodiment of a complete lack of understanding, Damien hurried to particularize:

“It is Toussaint’s highest honor. A privilege of few and chosen individuals.”

“In that case… Thank you”, Geralt said stiffly.

“Arranging the ceremony might take a few days among… everything else”, Anna Henrietta said and had to collect her voice back together after glancing at the city on the other side of the bridge and seeing the buildings scorched black and the streets torn open, “But we shall send the invitation to Corvo Bianco when the time comes. Under these unfortunate circumstances, we might have to scale down the procedures…”

Regis gave a laugh. “I suppose Geralt is able to live with that if he gives it his all.”

“And while we are on the subject of rewards”, Anna Henrietta said, turning around, “I must ask you, Regis, how significant has your part in these events been? If you feel you deserve – “

Regis shook his head emphatically.

“I have been but a passive bystander”, he said with a voice filled with an urge to make matters clear once and for all, “I cannot take the slightest credit for Geralt’s valiant efforts and their results, and to avoid such an occurrence I downright insist not to be recognized with any awards, compensations or festive speeches.”

“You can be my plus one in the ceremony, if you like”, Geralt smirked with a strangely discordant expression, stepped on the stirrup and swung himself on the back of his horse. 

“I don’t have a heart to draw attention to myself on your glamorous high point, my good friend”, Regis said as if the mere thought appalled him.

“Naturally, you are welcome to join, should you wish to”, Anna Henrietta said, and Regis bowed in restrainedly polite manner.

“I will consider it”, he said, and Anna Henrietta got a feeling he was about to disappear as inexplicably and without a trace as he did at the end of his previous stay in Toussaint, “But now, if you allow my outspokenness, I’d like to go home. There is very much truth in Geralt’s words: a rest would do me good above all.”

Geralt and Regis left. The witcher didn’t, peculiarly in Anna Henrietta’s opinion, offer his friend the possibility to get on horseback with him, but let Regis walk and galloped off instantly after crossing the bridge. Anna Henrietta looked at the sun, already wholly above the mountain ranges of the horizon, and felt so jaded she barely stayed on her feet. She glanced at the bridge again, but Regis was already out of sight.

“Damien”, she said.

“Yes, Your Grace?”

She promised herself this would be the last personal affair for now. Everything else could wait while she tended to her duchy, repaired the damages it had suffered, compensated the losses as much as they could be compensated. But this thing needed to be taken care of right away.

“I do not know how the witcher knew to seek Syanna from the playroom last night even though her whereabouts were a carefully guarded secret.”

“Your – “

Anna Henrietta raised her hand.

“Neither do I aim to find out how that happened. I do not _wish_ to know. I am going to assume that looking from the playroom was the luckiest guess of his life, one that he made for his own, inscrutable reasons. We shall never speak of it again. Do you understand?”

Judging by the look on Damien’s face he worked hard to understand, or possibly to believe what he had just heard.

“Your Grace, I only tried to – “

“ _Do you understand_ , Damien?”

She looked straight into the bellflower blue eyes and knew that everything had changed, and, at the same time, everything was the same. Damien had never made a single decision without believing with all his heart he was acting in her best interest. And he never would.

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“Good. We have a lot of work to do”, Anna Henrietta said, broke the eye contact that otherwise would have swept her away soon, and turned back towards the Palace, “I have to verify the chamberlain’s notice about the compensation claims for the damages caused by the vampires and send the messengers to the city. Go and make sure Syanna has everything she needs in the tower. If something is lacking, take care of it and organize the guards’ shifts. Then, make a preliminary report about the losses suffered by the Ducal Guard and bring it to my room. As quickly as possible.”

Damien bowed.

“You can trust me”, he said with a voice that very nearly said something so much more.

_Anarietta._

“I know, Damien.”

_Please kiss me._

* * *


End file.
